Good Intentions
by CharlotteAshmore
Summary: Merle wants to give Daryl something truly special for his birthday. Why not his heart's desire?


**Disclaimer:** I do not own anything affiliated with The Walking Dead. This is simply for fun; not for profit. No copyright infringement intended.

 **Tags:** *Carol/Daryl, *Carol Peletier, *Daryl Dixon, *Merle Dixon, *Birthday, *Angst, *Smut, *Fluff, *oh my!, *light bondage, *Prison AU

 **Summary:** Merle wants to give Daryl something truly special for his birthday. Why not his heart's desire?

 **A/N:** I really don't want to tag this as non/con, because everything which goes on between Daryl and Carol is totally consensual. Merle, on the other hand, is a sneaky fucker! And you may not like what he does while preparing his 'gift'. All I can say is you'll see where it's going and I won't hold it against you if you don't read it all the way through. Merle really means well, and just wants his brother to be happy. That said, happy reading! Reviews are lovely.

Good Intentions

By:

Charlotte Ashmore

Gawd! Sometimes, he wondered why he even bothered to get out of bed. Not that it was much of a bed. He was in a prison for fuck's sake … _voluntarily_ , at that. Was this really what his life had become. At least when he'd lived in Woodbury, he hadn't had to witness his brother mooning over that woman day in and day out. That life seemed eons ago. The governor was dead and so far, there had been peace between the citizens of that doomed town and those who lived at the prison.

He spooned another bite of oatmeal into his mouth and chewed distractedly. They weren't so bad. They'd let him stay … for Daryl's sake if nothing else. Hell, he was even getting along with Officer Friendly. It wasn't easy, but he'd behave if he was allowed to stay with his brother. He didn't want to revisit the memories of all those months wondering if Daryl were alive or dead. It was one of the lowest points in his life. The boy was all he had left of his blood, and that meant the world to the elder Dixon. He'd spent his life looking out for him when no one else would, and now that he'd found him, he wasn't going anywhere. He'd learned his lesson, and learned it well. He needed Daryl a lot more than Daryl needed him now.

Merle's face scrunched up in disgust. "How th' fuck long has this shit been going on? For fuck's sake, tell me I'm not imaginin' this shit!" he growled lowly.

Glenn shook his head, so he nudged Rick sharply in the ribs, causing the former cop to drop his spoon. Rick looked up and followed Merle's gaze to where Daryl was just taking his bowl from Carol. "Nope, not imagining it, Merle," Rick sighed.

"They've been like this since the farm," Glenn added.

Merle watched as Daryl's fingers brushed Carol's, the blooming color on his face, and the shy smile he offered her before he began to make his way to the table. His eyes narrowed on Carol, the way her eyes followed Daryl's retreating back, the longing so evident in her gaze, nor the way she bit her lip before sighing and turning to the next person in line. _What the flamin' fuck!?_ What was wrong with that boy? He'd taught him better than that.

"They ain't never –"

Glenn shot him a look. "Nope. Either they're too scared to act on their feelings, or they just don't see it."

"But they share a cell!" he said in a furious whisper not loud enough to carry.

Rick snorted as he took a long drink from his cup of tepid tea. "They used to share a bedroll when we were out on the road before we found this place. I've never seen anyone as protective as he is when it comes to her."

"They've permanently grounded themselves in the 'friend zone'," Glenn stated, making air quotes. "It's really tragic when everyone can see how much they love each other."

Daryl sat down at the table on Rick's other side and stuffed a heaping spoonful into his mouth. "We still gonna check that town south of here?" he asked Rick.

Merle sat back and narrowed his eyes on his little brother, not missing the way Daryl continued to sneak glances at Carol until she'd finished serving everyone and moved to sit next to her cellmate.

"Y' comin' with, Merle?" Daryl asked, drawing his attention back to him. "Would do y' good t' come with us on this run, get out for a while."

Merle could hear the tension in his tone. He knew Daryl still didn't trust him not to cause trouble if he somehow slipped from under his watchful eye. "Yeah … yeah, a'right. I need t' pick up a few things," he murmured, a slow grin curling his thin lips.

Daryl gave him a hard look, and Merle could practically feel the distrust radiating off of him. "Don't look at me like that, boy. Yer birthday's comin' up in a few weeks, an' I know just what I want t' get y'."

*.*.*

Over the next few days, Merle began to pay closer attention to his brother's actions around the prison. It seemed Carol was never far from Daryl unless he was forced by necessity to go on a run or a hunt. Sometimes, he took her with him. The youngest Dixon never shirked his duty on watch, oft times skipping out on dinner to take the third shift. Those times Carol would bring a bowl up to the tower so he wouldn't starve, and stay to keep him company. Merle was sure they weren't fooling around; thanks to a pair of handy binoculars he'd borrowed from Rick.

They were like two storm tossed ships, neither wanting to get too close to the other for fear of being knocked off course. Gawd, it was tragic. But it only reinforced his determination to throw the two idiots together. They were both damaged, afraid of rejection from the other. If this continued, they'd never find happiness, and that was something Merle couldn't allow to happen. He'd probably find himself booted out of the prison for what he was planning, but it seemed to be the only way. It would be worth it to see Daryl happy. He owed him that.

*.*.*

Daryl stopped in his task of putting walkers down through the fence, and squinted against the sun as he watched his brother approach Rick where the man was tending his beans with Carl and Glenn's help.

Carol put her own poker down and nudged his shoulder. "Something wrong, Pookie? It's not like you to be so distracted," she said, smiling as he blushed at her term of endearment.

He grunted and jerked his chin in the direction of the others. "Merle. Has he seemed a bit off this week t' you?"

She stabbed another walker through the fence, not liking the way it reached and seemed to stretch the chain link in Daryl's direction. "No more than usual, why?"

The hunter's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "He's up t' somethin'."

"Daryl, you've got to stop this," she said encouragingly. "Merle has been on his best behavior this last month. He's trying, and you have to learn to trust him."

He shot her a dubious look.

"It's not like he's going to murder us all in our sleep," she huffed in exasperation.

"Naw, he ain't like that. If Merle kills someone, he's got a damn good reason. But that don't mean he ain't plottin' some underhanded shit."

Carol watched him worriedly as he turned back to the fence, taking out his feelings on the dead who were trying their best to knock the fence down to get to the living within the courtyard. "Merle's a grown man, and more than capable of making his own decisions –"

"That's what worries me," he growled.

"You can't watch him twenty-four seven, Daryl. It's going to put a strain on your relationship. In some ways it already has."

"Damnit, woman! I'm not going t' let one of his hair-brained schemes backfire and hurt you … er … anyone in the group," he amended quickly. "That shit ain't happenin'."

He attacked the fence line with vigor, and she couldn't help but appreciate the way his muscles flexed beneath his bronzed skin. But she knew better than to attempt any further conversation with him in his present mood. She propped her poker against the opposite fence and slipped her arms back into the sleeves of her button up, pulling it over her plain black tank. "I'm going to get started on dinner. Will you be long?"

Daryl shook his head, but reached out and gripped her wrist loosely before she could get far. "Watch yourself, Carol. Especially when Merle's around."

She sighed. "I will if it will put your mind at ease." She knew he was well aware of the fact she could take care of herself. He was just being overprotective as usual. But this couldn't go on. He was going to have to make peace with his brother eventually.

*.*.*

Merle leaned back in his chair and passed the bottle of Wild Turkey between him and the others assembled at the end of the table. And by others, he meant his partners in crime … Rick, of course, Glenn, rather reluctant, Hershel and Carl. It was late, and thankfully Daryl and Carol were both in the tower on watch. He really hadn't wanted to involve the others, but he'd had little choice.

He'd needed Rick to approve the clandestine runs he'd needed to make. That had rankled, but he'd sucked up his pride. This was for Daryl, and he was going to go through with it if it killed him. Which it might … at least afterwards. He'd been thankful for Glenn's involvement. There was no better person than Hop Sing to go on runs with. That boy was quick and agile, and knew how to get in and out without drawing unwanted attention. Hershel, he was their voice of reason. He too was tired of watching Daryl and Carol dance around each other in a never-ending circle of nothingness. It was painful to watch unrequited true love. And Carl was the lookout. Sneaky little bastard was what he was, Merle thought. They'd need him to watch for Daryl the day the plan was set into motion. They didn't need baby brother foiling their hard work.

Rick took a long drink from his cup, wincing as the alcohol burned a fiery trail down his throat. "Are we really going to go through with this, Merle? Daryl is not going to be happy."

"What's to say he's even going to make a move once he gets down there with her?" Glenn asked. "He's the biggest introvert I've ever seen in my life."

"That may be," Hershel said, sipping gingerly from his cup of tea. "But he cares for Carol. Perhaps if they're allowed time alone together, he might open up to her."

Carl scrunched up his face. "Do we really have to talk about Daryl getting laid? Eww, just eww."

Merle leaned forward and poured himself another drink. "This ain't just about that, boy!" he insisted after his laughter died. "This is about him bein' happy. M' brother ain't had the easiest life before the turn, an' it sure ain't been easy since. An' that woman o' his had hell herself. I'm sure I don't have t' remind any o' you how she was at th' quarry. Mouse has come a long way since then." He sighed. "Neither one o' them's gonna be happy without th' other."

Rick buried his head in his hands. "They're gonna kill us."

"Make sure you hide Daryl's crossbow," Carl warned..

"If Maggie gets wind of this, we're done for," Glenn groaned.

Merle banged his hand on the table and glared at him. "None o' th' women need t' know about this, y'hear, Hop Sing! Y' keep that mouth o' yers shut."

Hershel reached over and rested a calming hand on Merle's shoulder. "There's no need for violence. This is for two of our own … although I don't really want to know the details of what you've planned. Don't think my old heart could take it."

"It ain't all bad ol' man. We just need to get them in the right place at the right time."

"Easier said than done," Rick mumbled, reaching for the bottle again.

Merle clapped him on the back. "Stop yer worryin' an' gather round. Here's what we're gonna do …"

*.*.*

The morning of Daryl's birthday dawned bright and clear, perfect hunting weather. There were no runs scheduled until later in the week, and he wasn't due for watch at all. Rick had insisted he take the day off. Well, if he were allowed to spend the day in frivolous pursuits, he could think of no better way than trekking through the woods. There was always a need for fresh meat, so hopefully the day wouldn't be a complete waste. A slow smirk formed on his lips as he plodded into the kitchen, his narrowed gaze falling on Carol as she prepared breakfast.

His entire body perked to attention in her presence, his sunshine to chase away the shadows which lurked to steal his joy. She _was_ his joy. He groaned inwardly … she just didn't _know_ she was his. That really was going to have to change, and soon. He didn't know how many more nights he'd be able to share a cell with her and keep his thready sanity. Knowing she slept just above him and not being able to touch her was driving him crazy. He'd never loved anyone as he did her. It had just taken this long for him to realize what he was feeling was indeed love. It hadn't been until he'd thought her lost in the tombs. It had nearly destroyed him to think he'd never see her again, never have her sit at his side offering her silent comfort, never hear her sweet teasing or feel the accompanying blush it brought. It had made him realize how much he needed her. It wasn't hard to realize he loved her then.

Daryl rested his crossbow against the wall by the door, inching closer to her workstation on silent feet. Perhaps he'd be able to lure her out to the woods with him. Did he really want to spend his birthday alone? He was sure he could convince his brother to join him, but he'd much rather spend the time with Carol.

He felt insanely happy the kitchen was empty that time of morning, because as soon as she saw him, her face lit up and she hurried out from around the counter to throw herself into his arms. He was shocked as he felt her press herself flush with his body, her arms winding around his neck and her lips fluttering a kiss to his cheek.

"Happy birthday, Pookie," she whispered breathlessly.

His hands went to her hips to keep her in place as she tried to move away, his head turning into her to press his cheek against hers. He wanted to prolong the moment for as long as possible, despite the fierce pounding of his heart and the voice in his head warning he was letting her get too close. Fuck that! He was tired of hiding from her. "Er … thanks," he stammered when he couldn't put off the inevitable any longer and let her go.

She flushed brightly, her hands trailing over his bare arms to grip his hands, pulling him over to sit on the stool at her workstation. "Hungry?"

Daryl grunted a response, glancing curiously at the bowl of oatmeal she set before him. He arched a brow at the lone birthday candle stuck in the middle of it. "Seriously?" he scoffed.

Carol leaned her elbows on the counter, blew out the candle – which had him shifting restlessly in his seat – and propped her chin in her hands. "Don't be like that," she grinned, that special smile she reserved specifically for him. "It's not every day we can celebrate the day you were born."

He shoveled a spoonful of the gooey substance into his mouth, plucking the candle out and setting it aside. "Jus' another day, woman," he mumbled.

She shook her head slowly. "Oh no, Dixon, not at all. It's a day to be celebrated with great relish. If you'd never been born, I wouldn't have met you," she said, her voice low and thready.

Daryl could feel the tips of his ears burning. He couldn't meet her gaze, instead concentrating on his food. "Didja eat this mornin'?"

She hummed a response. It had always been a thing with them, ever since their time the previous winter and they'd been stuck on the road, always making sure the other ate at least once a day.

"Y' wanna go huntin' with me today?" he asked, peering at her shyly through his fringe of bangs.

Carol's face fell. "I'd love to, but I have so much to do today. And I'm making you a special dinner tonight. Rick and Carl harvested the first of our potatoes and carrots. Oh, and a few cabbages. I'm going to prepare some of those along with that backstrap from the deer you brought home yesterday. We're feasting tonight."

He felt his face flame hotter, but this time with pleasure. "Y' ain't gotta go t' all that trouble for me, Carol."

She bit her lip and hesitantly reached out to cover his hand with hers. "I want to."

Gawd, he wanted to kiss her so badly. If only he weren't such a coward when it came to his feelings … or acting upon them at least. "A'right, but tonight – after dinner – I need t' talk t' y' about somethin'."

Carol nodded as he got up from the stool. "Ok," she agreed. "You be careful out there." She handed him a small bag of jerky, a couple of apples and a few bottles of water which he stuffed into his hunting sack, and he was gone.

Daryl leaned back against the stone wall as he exited the kitchen, his crossbow hanging limply from his hand. He couldn't breathe, forcing one lungful after another of much needed air. His heart thundered against his ribs to an almost painful extent. It was mild as far as his panic attacks went. He needed to get out of the prison, needed wide open space with fresh air and sunshine. Damnit! He needed to resolve this tension between him and Carol. He _wanted_ – more than anything – to claim her as his own. The signs were there. Why was he still so afraid she'd reject him? His mind screamed 'why wouldn't she?', but his heart knew it was bullshit. There were just too many years built up on his soul telling him he'd never be good enough. He had to find the will to force it away and come clean with her about his feelings. He had no choice. Every day was uncertain, and he didn't want to regret never telling her – showing her – should something unfortunate happen.

He pushed himself off of the wall, having calmed somewhat, and cut through the cell block on his way to the exit. He was surprised to see Merle up and about – it was barely seven – much less deep in discussion with Hershel near the cell they used for medical purposes. He felt as if he'd been kicked in the gut when the doctor handed the elder Dixon several pills in a small bottle.

"Brother!" he called, increasing the speed of his steps across the worn concrete floor. "Y' sick?"

Merle grinned and shoved the bottle into his pocket. "Naw … nothin' like that."

Hershel was quick to explain when the mask of suspicion clouded Daryl's already surly countenance. "Not to worry, Daryl. Merle's been having trouble sleeping. I simply gave him a few tranquilizers, low dose. They'll help relax him, nothing more."

The hunter visibly relaxed. "Y' always were too high-strung," he scoffed. "Goin' huntin' … wanna come with?"

"Not this time, lil' brother. Gotta finish up my gift for the birthday boy," he chortled, clapping his brother on the back. "Y' g'on an' have a good hunt."

"Y' ain't had t' get me nothin', Merle. Already toldja that."

Merle smiled, and for once Daryl could see how much his brother cared. "Yes, I did," he said softly. "This is somethin' y' really need. I think you'll like it."

Daryl shot a puzzled frown at his back as Merle walked away. Maybe Carol was right. Maybe Merle really was trying to change.

*.*.*

Daryl was exhausted when he finally returned to the prison, the late afternoon sunshine dipping low behind the trees. He'd already field dressed the buck slung over his shoulders as well as the half dozen rabbits hanging from his belt. He'd been daydreaming – something all around dangerous when away from the safety of the prison – and had been off the mark when he'd fired upon the deer. He'd cursed the entire time he'd had to track the damn thing. The incident had put him coming back later than he'd anticipated. He could only hope Carol wasn't too upset with him. It wasn't as though he'd wanted to cause her worry. Shit happens!

Knowing her, she'd be happy to have the fresh meat to put into the walk in. They used the generators sparingly, limiting it to running the walk in refrigerator, the kitchen stove and the hot water heater. Carol didn't like to use the kitchen stove, however. Not during the hotter months of late summer. She much preferred the outdoor kitchen he and Merle had rigged for her use, the grill and kerosene powered oven not so overwhelming with a breeze at her back. His eyes sought her out. Surely, she'd be outside cooking the feast she'd mentioned that morning. Instead, he found Beth and Maggie toiling away.

They both greeted him with a 'happy birthday' as he laid his kills on one of the prep tables. "Hey," he grunted in response. "Where's Carol?"

Maggie glanced at him over her shoulder as she stirred the large pot of smothered cabbage. "I believe she said something about wanting to shower before dinner was ready."

He turned to Beth. "Get Zach an' Patrick to put these in the walk in. Me an' Merle can work on skinnin' an' cleanin' 'em in th' mornin'."

The girl didn't hesitate to run off to do as he'd instructed.

"Dinner will be ready soon, Daryl. You might want to get cleaned up," Maggie said, nodding to the blood staining his clothes.

Daryl wrinkled his nose as he looked down at his shirt. Yes, a shower was definitely in order. Carol never complained, but he knew she hated the smell of old blood stinking up their cell. He tried to make sure he was clean before joining her at night. His eyes narrowed at the crowd of Woodbury people in the common room. Did they never do anything besides sit around? Weren't there chores to be done? Carol never stopped, constantly working from dawn to dusk. Some days he was lucky to get a moment of her time. That shit needed to change, he thought in irritation.

He halted dead in his tracks when he made it to the cell they shared and it was devoid of all their belongings. "Th' fuck?!" Where was all their stuff? Carol's little desk he'd hauled clear across the county to bring to her? The same desk he'd sanded and stained and carved climbing roses into the legs? He still blushed when he remembered her tear filled eyes and soft thank you as she'd kissed his cheek and wrapped him in a long hug. He should have told her of his feelings then. Where were their packs? Their bedding which Carol had chosen on one of their first runs together? What the hell was going on?!

"Rick!" he yelled, leaning over the railing from the second floor. "Rick! There's a fuckin' thief done stole all our shit!"

The former deputy raced up the stairs to head off the hunter's fierce temper. "Calm down –"

"All our stuff's missin', man! What th' hell's Carol gonna say?"

"Talk to Merle. It all has to do with this surprise he's planning for your birthday," Rick tried again, relieved when Daryl seemed to relax a little.

"Merle moved our stuff?" he questioned, giving Rick a dubious look. "Why would he do that? Where'd he put it? Man, give me somethin'. I don't want Carol to freak when she comes up here and all our stuff is gone."

The elder Dixon – having heard the ruckus from below – joined the two on the catwalk. "There y' are, lil' brother. Was wonderin' when you'd be makin' it back. Ain't jus' been tryin' t' avoid all th' birthday wishes, have y'?"

"No!" He ducked his head. "Maybe … but I need t' shower an' get this filth offa me, an' I come back t' this."

Merle grinned as Rick took his leave. "Not t' worry. I left y' some clean clothes an' yer kit in th' showers. Then when yer done, I'll show y' yer birthday present."

Daryl stared suspiciously at his brother. "What are y' doin'? What's all this with movin' me an' Carol?"

"Jus' have a lil' faith in ol' Merle," he said, slinging an arm over his shoulder and steering him towards the shower room. "I promise y' won't be disappointed."

*.*.*

"Dayum, lil' brother. Y' shaved _an'_ trimmed yer goatee? Y' got plans with yer woman?" Merle teased. "Hang on," he said, reaching out with a towel to dab at a bit of shaving cream Daryl had missed. "Y' missed a spot."

"Damnit, Merle, don't talk about her like that," he said defensively, flushing. He wanted to reach up and smooth his hair again, but refrained. It would only bring more ribbing from his brother. "Better yet … don't talk about her at all, y' ass!"

Merle cast him a Cheshire like grin. "Well, c'mon. I ain't got all day. Let's go see your gift."

Daryl felt his stomach clench. It was never a good thing to see Merle in such a good mood. Those moods were usually accompanied by some mischief where only Merle relished any enjoyment. "Where we goin'?" he asked nervously as they headed down to the tombs. He caressed the strap of his crossbow resting on his chest, his sense of unease only worsening.

Merle cast him a side-eyed glance and shrugged, figuring he'd have to tell him sooner or later. He'd thought and rethought his plan a dozen times, and each time, he'd convinced himself it was the right thing to do. Daryl would forgive him … eventually. "Y' know that office just before the solitary wing? The one with its own bathroom?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I made it into a room for you an' Mouse t' share. Seein' as you two are content sharin' a cell an' all. This'll give y' a bit more privacy," he said, waggling his brows lasciviously.

Daryl brought his hand up to pinch his temples. Why did Merle have to make every word out of his mouth sound lewd? "I really thought Rick had his eye on that room for him an' th' kids."

"After all that shit went down with Blake, he's th' one kept insistin' he owed me a favor. So I called him on it. Wanted this for you an' Mouse."

Daryl shook his head. "We all pulled our weight, but y' know how Rick is. Thinks everythin' is his responsibility."

He reached out, his fingers closing over the doorknob when he felt Merle put a restraining hand on his arm. He frowned at his brother who seemed to be struggling for words.

"Before y' go in, I wanna tell y' somethin'." He shifted uncomfortably. "Yer all I got left, Daryl. I know I ain't always been there fer y', or don't right by y' … but I want y' t' know there ain't _nothin'_ in this world I wouldn't do fer y," Merle said, his crystal blue gaze boring into his brother's darker eyes. "I'm hopin' this'll make up fer some o' th' things I've done in th' past."

Daryl actually felt a bit of excitement as he turned the knob, eager to see how his brother had transformed the space. The entire block where it was housed had already been cleared of walkers, and the locked gates at either end would ensure no stragglers would find their way in from unsecured sections of the prison. That excitement turned to blood boiling rage when he took in the room.

He couldn't appreciate the thick rug spread over the cement floor, nor the placement of Carol's desk and a small dresser. He didn't see the cheesy artwork on the walls or the lamp on a bedside table with fragrant oil. Instead, his eyes were riveted to the massive king-size bed with its wrought iron framework and thick goose down duvet which dominated the former office. It wasn't even the bed which had his blood pressure reaching dangerous levels, but the woman resting back against a mountain of pillows, her arms thrown over her head, handcuffed to the headboard, and wearing the most scandalous babydoll nightie he'd ever seen.

Daryl rushed over to the bed, placing a knee on the edge of the mattress and shaking her shoulder. When she didn't respond, he brought his fingers beneath her jaw, frantically checking for a pulse. "Carol … oh please, baby … wake up."

"She's fine," Merle insisted from the doorway.

It clicked into place at the sound of his brother's voice, the tranquilizers Hershel had given him that morning. "You lied t' Hershel an' then y' drugged her?" he asked, whirling around to face him. "Th' fuck's wrong with y', Merle?"

His brother chortled gleefully and slammed the door shut, the lock clicking ominously as he sealed Daryl in the room with Carol. "Oh, get yer knickers unknotted, boy! This'll be good fer you and Mouse."

"What're y' talkin' about, y' ass? She's gonna wake up an' think I did this t' her!" Daryl shouted through the door. He yanked hard on the knob and then pounded his fist against the sturdy metal door. "Open th' fuckin' door, Merle!"

Merle leaned back against the door, crossing his arms over his chest. "Nope. Watchin' y' moon over that lil' woman is gettin' tiresome, brother. Time fer y' t' nut up an' claim what's yers. An' I ain't lettin' y'all outta there 'til y' do."

A fist slammed into the door inches from his head, and Merle jumped away, glad for the heavy barrier between them. "At least give me th' damn key t' th' handcuffs. I cain't jus' leave her like that!"

"Damn, I knew there was somethin' I forgot."

Daryl growled, panic seizing his chest and making it hard to breathe. "I'm goin' t' fuckin' kill y' for this, Merle. I swear I will! An' then I'ma beat th' hell outta Rick for helpin' with this insane shit!"

Merle cackled. "As much as I'd love t' see y' beat Officer Friendly bloody, he don't even know I swiped his cuffs."

"Merle, so help me god –"

"Aw, man up, lil' brother. Get yer ass in there an' tell yer woman how y' feel. Stop bein' such a damn pussy!" He tapped the door as he pushed off of it, feeling more confident he was doing the right thing. "I'ma go see if I can find that key."

"Merle, get your ass back here … Merle!" _Fuck!_ Daryl could already hear the sound of his brother's boots fading down the corridor.

Daryl pressed his forehead against the door, the coolness of the metal helping to keep him grounded. His chest tightened as he fought to calm his breathing. Now was not the time to have a panic attack. He had to keep his head and think of a way out of this before Carol woke up. He couldn't even look at her. That one long look when he'd first come into the room had all the blood in his body rushing straight to his cock.

He remembered those long legs and slender thighs, the slight flare of her hips leading into her trim waist. The way her breasts strained against the lace of her nightie. And let's not forget that delectable neck. _Gawd !_ He wanted to bury his face there and breathe her in as he –

 _What th' fuck am I doin'? I should be thinkin' of a way outta this, not how much I want t' touch her!_ He drew in a fortifying breath, wishing he had something to drink. He went to a row of cupboards, flinging the doors open, hoping there might be something he could use to pick the lock on the cuffs. Instead, he found at least a dozen bottles of water and several bags of jerky. At least they wouldn't starve, he thought. He opened one of the bottles and downed the contents, feeling a little better now that he wasn't so parched.

Daryl moved to Carol's desk, pulling open the drawers. His brow scrunched, wondering where she'd accumulated so much needless office materials. Then he thought about the binders she kept full of their schedules, inventory lists and things. He wanted to shout for joy as he found a small box of paperclips. He'd have her out of those cuffs in no time. But then he'd have to touch her. That brought him up short, making him groan. He really didn't know if he had the strength to touch her and simply stop once he'd freed her. All that smooth ivory skin with its sprinkling of freckles …

He pushed his longing thoughts aside and concentrated on bending the paperclip for his needs. He'd just taken his first tentative step towards the bed when he heard Carol moan. _Oh shit!_ She shifted, arching her back, stretching the kinks from her muscles, as if she were waking from a nap. _Shit! Shit! Shit!_ He was so screwed.

She tried pulling her arms down, a frown creasing her smooth brow, her eyes flying open to shoot upwards towards the headboard. He watched her breath hitch and her eyes dart about the room. He was more than a little surprised when her gaze came to rest on him and her lips curled up into a racy smirk. She calmed instantly.

"Wow, Pookie," she purred. "Is this what you wanted to talk to me about? All you had to do was ask. There really was no need to cuff me to the bed."

Carol might have tried to hide the small quaver of fear in her voice, but he could hear it. How could he not? No one knew Carol like he did. His traitorous libido cooled, and all he could think of was setting her mind at ease. "I swear it's not what you think, woman. This was Merle's idea."

Her eyes sparkled with humor as he sat next to her on the bed and reached for the cuffs. "So … _Merle_ convinced you to drag me … wherever we are … and cuff me to the bed? Kinky."

"Carol!" he growled. "I ain't had a clue what he'd planned until he lured me down here an' shoved me into th' room … right before he locked th' damned door." His eye flickered down to meet hers. "D'you really think I'da done somethin' like this t' you?"

She sighed. "No, of course not. I was only teasing, Pookie." She shifted restlessly, feeling the scratch of lace against her skin. Her mouth fell open as she looked down to see what she was wearing. "Oh god! Where'd this come from?"

"Merle. He drugged you, an' then -"

"He stripped me naked and redressed me?!" she screeched. "You're going to have to stand in line, Daryl."

"For what?"

"You can have what's left after I'm done with him!" She bit her lip as she watched him work. "What did he even think this would accomplish?"

Daryl didn't answer as he freed her left hand and pulled it against his chest, rubbing gently at the marks left on her creamy skin with his thumbs. Her other hand fell against the bed, the cuffs dangling from her wrist. "The room … it's for us," he murmured, watching her from beneath his lashes. "My birthday present. Thought we'd like the space."

"Why do I hear a 'but' in there?" She watched him intently, heat racing through her veins. She'd bed in bed with him before. They'd shared a cell for months, and then a bedroll out on the road. That in itself was a big issue, considering his past and touch phobia. It was only _her_ touch he tolerated. But this was different. She'd never been so scantily clad in his presence before. He pressed his lips to the redness on her wrist, soothing it, and she was forced to clench her thighs together to relieve the ache building there.

"Merle … he um … he said he's goin' t' leave us locked in here until … until I man up an' tell y' how I feel about y'," he mumbled, stammering over the words as his tongue tried to stick itself to the roof of his mouth. He couldn't look at her after that little admission, instead taking her other hand to work on the cuff still locked around her right wrist.

A soft gasp fell from her lips, her intense gaze never leaving him. "And … is that something you'd like to share with me, Daryl?" Her hand rose to cup his jaw, her thumb caressing gently across his cheekbone. "Is that what you hinted at this morning?"

Daryl set the cuffs on the nightstand and leaned into her touch, closing his eyes and covering her hand with one of his own. "I suck at this, Carol. I ain't never been good at talkin' about m' feelings."

Her eyes darkened, pulling at him, showing him everything he himself felt in his heart, but he never expected her to pull him closer and brush her lips to his as she sat up next to him. "Then show me."

He still had a fierce but gentle grip on her wrist, his lifeline in a world gone askew. He wanted so badly to pinch himself, to make sure he wasn't lost in another of his endless dreams of her, but he didn't want her to think him crazy. A tremor shook his lithe frame as she pressed her brow to his, never having felt their connection more strongly than in that moment. It had always existed between them. Probably since the quarry when he'd watched her drive that pick axe through the good for nothing skull of her dead husband. If he were honest with himself, he knew that had been the moment he'd given himself to her. She was the reason he'd stayed with the group, the reason he fought so hard to get along with the others when he'd really wanted to run. She was his reason for … everything. _She_ was his everything, and it was time to stop hiding his heart from her.

Why then couldn't he say the words he knew she longed to hear? Carol had always been his constant. There really wasn't anything he couldn't tell her. It shouldn't be this hard to tell her he loved her. Silently cursing his traitorous tongue, he slipped the top two buttons on his shirt free and took her hand, placing it against the bare skin of his chest over his heart. "Yours," he whispered around the raw emotion clogging his throat. "I want to be … yours."

Carol couldn't have held back her tears if she'd tried. A little sob tore from her throat as she wrapped her free arm around his neck and pulled him closer. "Yes … but only if you'll be mine, Daryl. Will you be mine? Are you finally ready to let me love you?"

He could feel the burn behind his eyes as he gaped at her, and with a groan he buried his face in her throat. "Y' love me?"

She held him to her, carding her fingers through his shaggy hair. "I can't remember a time when I didn't love you, Daryl. I was just waiting for you to be ready. I've seen the scars of your past. I know how hard it must be to let someone in. It wasn't easy for me to put Ed behind me either." She cupped his face, bringing his head up to meet her gaze. "I would have waited for you forever, Dixon."

And just like that – hearing her confess her love for him – he felt the last of his walls crumble to dust. He knew Carol would guard his heart, protect and cherish it. "Love you, woman … _my_ woman," he growled lowly, dragging her onto his lap to straddle him as he pressed his back against the pillows. "You gotta be all in, though, Carol. If y' let me have y', I ain't never lettin' y' go."

"As if I'd let you. All or nothing, Pookie," she whispered against his lips. "I'm _yours_. Now show me … show me everything you can't seem to put into words."

It was still difficult for Daryl to believe this was finally happening. A litany of _what if's_ crowded his mind, drowning him in self-doubt. He pulled her closer, burying his face against the crook of her neck. "I don't want to disappoint you."

Her fingers tangled in his hair as she clucked her tongue with compassion. "You won't, Pookie," she cooed softly. "You never have before. Why would you think you'd disappoint me now? I should be the one worried I'm not enough for you."

He couldn't keep his hands still, his fingers tracing the little patterns in the lace as he kissed a hot trail over her clavicle. "You're perfect," he breathed against her soft skin. " _Mine …_ "

Carol was more than ready when he finally lifted his head and claimed her mouth in a kiss which singed her inside and out all the way down to curl her toes. He plundered, his tongue eagerly meeting hers. He devoured, his teeth clashing with hers for a moment. Her hands soothed up his chest to his shoulders where she kneaded at the tension still prevalent in his posture. She eased back, sucking gently at his bottom lip, one hand threading through his hair. "Relax. I'm not going anywhere."

Daryl lowered his gaze, trying to calm the frenetic energy coursing through him. The beast inside him had one goal in mind … to be inside her, to join with her, to claim her … and he knew she deserved better than that. He sucked in a deep breath. The bank of high basement windows let in the dying sunlight to bathe her in an ethereal glow, and he focused on his hands trailing over her bare arms. Up and down in a sensual path, showing her he could give her what she needed without acting like an untamed animal.

Carol shivered as his fingers – rough from hard work – skimmed over her shoulders to cup her neck, his thumbs brushing over the hollow of her throat. She smiled at his efforts as he reined himself in and went to work at the buttons on his shirt. He'd already done most of the work for her, and then he was yanking it over his head, his hands urgent on her hips as he dragged her forward. The lace of her nightie scratched against his chest, and a growl rumbled deep in his chest. This time when his lips met hers, he was tender and sweet, though no less passionate. He poured everything which was in his heart into the simple gesture, and she had never felt so loved.

He broke away to breathe, ghosting his lips down to the frantically beating pulse point beneath her jaw, his tongue darting out to taste her. Her hands tightened in his hair, holding her to him as his own mapped the smooth flesh of her thighs, growing closer to where she needed him most. She was a writhing mass of nerves. Desperate for his touch, she squirmed on his lap, grinding her bare sex against his cloth-covered erection. Thank god Merle hadn't tried to find some skimpy thong for her. She didn't want to think of Merle Dixon changing her drawers!

Those delightful hands of his ventured higher, palming the firm globes of her heart-shaped ass, and he pulled away gasping. "Gawd, woman, you're gonna be th' death o' me," he groaned.

She pressed her brow to his as his fingers brushed against her core, teasing and manipulating her flesh at his whim. "Shh … touch me. Please, Daryl … I need you to touch me," she whimpered, her pleading voice washing over him like a mighty wave.

A hand slowly slid over the lace at her side, pulling it away from her breast. His hot mouth closed over it without hesitation as his fingers slipped into her heat. Carol ground herself against his hand, the breathy moans falling from her parted lips echoing loudly in the otherwise silent room. Daryl hummed his own pleasure, the vibrations of his mouth on her sending little shocks through her body to make her core throb against his hand.

It wasn't enough. He was quickly losing his tenuous thread of control, the need to taste her, to feel her come against his tongue overpowering his good sense. He whipped the babydoll over her head, careful not to tear it, and tossed it to the floor with his shirt. His hands were a rough as he flipped her onto her back and began to nip and lick a path over the smooth plane of her belly to his prize.

"Daryl!" she cried, trying to find purchase to sit up and push him away when she discovered his intentions. No one had ever done that for her before, and she was a bit uneasy. "You don't –"

He cut her off with a growled, "Mine!", his hand pressing against her hip to hold her still. He nudged her legs wider to accommodate his broad shoulders, the new position allowing his fingers to push deeper and curl against a part of her she wasn't aware existed. "Gawd, baby, you taste so fuckin' good," he moaned, his lips closing over her sensitive bundle of nerves.

Carol couldn't help the blush which spread over her chest to travel and settle in the apples of her cheeks. She lifted her hips, bucking against his face as his tongue worked her beyond sanity. She couldn't speak. She couldn't breathe. Her entire being focused on the man she loved with her whole heart. The pressure built towards that inexplicable bliss, sending her careening over the edge, her speech a jumbled mass of nonsense as wave after wave of raw pleasure spread over her.

His eyes were soft, only a thin ring of cobalt surrounding his blown pupils as he watched her cum, an immense sense of pride nearly overwhelming him, knowing _he_ had done that for her. He crawled his way up her body, pressing a kiss to her hip, a small scar on the left side of her ribs, pausing for a long moment to nuzzle in the valley between her breasts before he felt she was coherent enough to accept his kiss.

Daryl's fingers locked around her wrist as she went for his belt, knowing it was already going to be a struggle to control himself once he was seated firmly inside her. "Not a good idea," he growled lowly, nipping at the creamy flesh of her throat, marking her for all to see, claiming her as his.

Carol's brow knitted, a frown pulling at the corner of her mouth. "But I want to touch," she pouted.

"Later … I promise," he vowed, a sexy smirk pulling at his lips. He reached for the little drawer on the nightstand, praying his brother had thought to put some condoms in there. Finding it empty, he could have wept.

"What's wrong? What are you looking for?" she asked, sitting up beside him.

"We ain't got a condom," he groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "How th' hell could Merle have forgotten th' condoms?"

Carol arched a brow, a giggle escaping the hand she held over her mouth. "Isn't this the same brother who frequently gets the clap?"

"This ain't funny!"

She reached for him, her small hand coming to rest tenderly alongside his jaw. "Daryl, love, I can't have any more children. You don't need a condom. We're both clean; we're safe."

He needed no further encouragement, shedding the rest of his clothes quickly. His cock throbbed with renewed vigor as he pushed her back against the pillows and came to rest in the cradle of her thighs. Her eyes were dark with desire as she lifted her hips to meet him, burying himself in her heat with one smooth thrust. He shuddered as her walls fluttered around his cock. She was so tight, so wet, so perfect, grasping at him, clenching around him until he thought he would go mad. He thought he would lose it when she bit down on his shoulder, urging him to move.

Carol moaned, never having felt so full, so right. She wrapped her legs high on his waist, pulling him deeper. The world, her worries, her fears … everything seemed inconsequential when she was in his arms. "I love you … God, Daryl, don't stop," she keened.

He whimpered softly into the crook of her neck, his arms tightening about her. Already he could feel the pulling in his belly and the crackle of pure sensation at the base of his spine. His pace increased, his thrusts bruising, but he couldn't stop. He growled against her throat as he pounded into her, his teeth bared as he prayed to hold on just a little longer. Her hand tightened in his hair, the nails of her other scoring his back as she met him thrust for thrust. She stiffened in his arms, her thighs trembling where they gripped his waist like a vise, and she let go with a loud cry. Only then did he allow himself to follow, to join her in the abyss of pleasure where only the two of them existed, that perfect place where their love could thrive and grow.

Daryl knew he was crushing her, knew he needed to move, but he was boneless, his entire body languorous and sated. "Am I too heavy?" he mumbled, unable to pry his eyes open.

Her arms tightened over his shoulders, as did her legs still about his waist. "No, you're perfect. I don't want to let go. I feel if I do, it'll have all been just a sweet wonderful dream."

That seemed to sober him, and he rolled – the bed large enough to accommodate them without tipping them to the floor – pulling her atop him. "Ain't no dream, woman. This is real."

She smiled dreamily down at him. "I'm still mad at Merle, despite his good intentions."

"Me too, but at least we got this sweet lil' nest o' our own now."

"He drugged me, Daryl," she replied with a pout. "And he saw me naked. How am I ever going to look him in the eye again?"

Daryl rolled over and tucked her into his side with a yawn. "Don't y' worry, woman. Leave Merle t' me."

*.*.*

It was late when Daryl's grumbling stomach forced them out of bed. Merle had come down at some point to unlock the door. Carol blushed furiously to think of what he might've heard. They dressed silently, and Carol was thankful all her clothes had been unpacked and stored away in the simple wooden dresser. She pulled on a pair of cotton pajama pants and a tank top, following him along the dark corridors back into cellblock C. She really liked the privacy afforded by the tombs. What with all the people crammed in the prison from Woodbury, and those Daryl and Michonne had rescued on some of their runs, she knew Daryl liked it too.

The kitchen was dark, only the moonlight filtering in through the barred windows offering its muted light for them to see by. "They better've left us some o' that feast y' promised me," Daryl grumbled, taking a seat on a stool near her workstation.

Carol grinned patiently. "If I know Beth, I'm sure she put some aside for us." Her mouth was already watering for the food she'd slaved over all afternoon.

She turned away from the walk-in – plates in hand – to find five grinning faces sitting in the corner by the window, a bottle of whiskey on the table before them. Well, Merle was grinning. His co-conspirators looked rather guilty. She set the stoneware plates in the oven and turned it on before drawing Daryl's attention to their friends.

Merle chortled as he took in the blush on his brother's face. "Well …" he drawled. "Didn't think th' two o' you woulda come up fer air 'til tomorrow."

"Y' mangy son of a bitch," Daryl growled, stalking towards the table where his brother sat. "Get up! Don't make me fuckin' crawl over that table. Get up!"

Rick hastily got to his feet, throwing his hands up in a gesture of surrender. Carl hurried to hide behind his father. Hershel groaned, and Glenn took another drink. Merle leaned back in his chair and winked at Carol which only incensed Daryl more.

"Daryl, now calm down," Rick said, coming to stand between him and Merle. "Really, you shouldn't be this upset after all Merle did for you."

The hunter glared at the man he considered his friend. "Are y' fuckin' serious? Do y' have any idea what he's done? Or jus' th' bullshit he likely fed y'?"

"I thought he was just making a nice new room for them," Carl whispered nervously from behind his father. "And didn't you say he'd be in a better mood if he got laid?"

"Oh god!" Glenn groaned.

"Why don't you sit down, Daryl. Have a drink and tell us what happened," Hershel said in his usual voice of reason. "I'm sure it can't be all that bad."

"Not that bad!?" Daryl growled. "Yeah it was actually nice for him t' fix up that office down there for us … but d'you really think that's all there is t' it? M' brother is th' type o' man who don't do shit for free, an' this time Carol had t' pay th' price!"

"What?" Echoed throughout the room as they all turned their eyes on the elder Dixon.

"Aww c'mon! Yer blowin' this whole thing outta proportion, brother!"

Carol crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at Merle. "He drugged me, stripped me naked, redressed me in some tawdry lingerie and handcuffed me to the bed."

The room erupted in chaos, each of the men turning an accusing stare on the redneck. Maggie and Beth – rubbing sleep from their eyes – came into the kitchen, wondering what was going on. Glenn headed them off to try to explain.

"I was tryin' t' help y'all. D'you know how painful it is watchin' th' two o' you dance around each other all day when it's clear how y' feel? I jus' wanted y' t' be happy," Merle shouted over the din.

Carol shook her head as Daryl leapt over the table and threw himself at his brother, his fist connecting with his jaw. "You could have asked me! You know I would do anything for Daryl," she cried, rushing forward to pull Daryl off of him.

"Is that what you wanted the tranquilizers for, Merle?" Hershel asked, his voice heavy with disapproval.

"You swiped my handcuffs?" Rick asked, frowning.

"I knew if Daryl saw Carol spread out like a banquet, he wouldn't be able t' resist," Merle said in his own defense, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth.

Daryl's hands clenched into fists at his sides, still angry with Merle. "I was already plannin' t' tell her. I didn't need no interference from you!"

Carol stared sadly up at the elder Dixon. "Merle, can't you see what you've done? You've worked so hard to show us all you've changed, and now how is anyone going to be able to trust you?"

Merle huffed brazenly. "I don't care. He tell y' he loves y'? He happy now?"

She nodded. "Yes. Daryl has made his feelings quite clear."

"That's all that matters then. I don't care what y'all think o' me. M' brother's th' only good thing I've ever had in my life. I ain't always treated him good or let 'im know I care. I wanted t' do somethin' to show him I do. If he's happy, th' rest o' y'all can kiss my –"

Carol slapped a hand over his mouth, cutting him off. "I think we get the point."

Rick ushered everyone out of the kitchen, leaving Carol and the Dixons alone. Daryl sat down heavily at the table as Carol went to retrieve their dinner from the oven. He glared at his brother. "Still cain't believe y' pulled this shit. I oughtta make y' leave," he grumbled, but there was no heat behind his words.

Merle poured himself another glass of whiskey. "That what y' want?"

"Naw, kinda like havin' y' around, but y' ever put your hands on m' woman again, an' I may have t' put a bolt in your ass.."

Merle grinned. "Wouldn't be th' first time."


End file.
